


All Is Found

by aestrales



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: F/M, Frozen AU, Implied Violence, M/M, Movie: Frozen 2 (2019), a blend of frozen and hp but with a whack-ass original lore for some reason idk, hella angst, yollypius plays an unnecessarily large role in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23066083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestrales/pseuds/aestrales
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy has a hidden secret which, when revealed, threatens his life, his family and his future. When he travels to the mysterious forests in the North, he learns about a new world which he must save, and the tyranny of his old kingdom which must be overthrown.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Polly Chapman/Yann Fredericks, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue

Scorpius had been overexcited all day. He was a bundle of nervous energy, jumping about and running all over the house. Draco looked desperately at Astoria, who returned his expression with amused exhaustion.  
“Do we let him tire himself out?”  
Scorpius’ seventh birthday had been a very small affair. The three of them had sat on the floor of the living room while he opened his presents, including an illustrated copy of the book he had so desperately wanted. Draco had spent months trying to get hold of it- it was an extremely rare book full of scientific exploration, but written almost like a storybook, full of anecdotes of exploration. He had cursed, more than once, the librarian in their part of the kingdom who had mentioned the book to Scorpius. He had set his sights on it instantly and, upon seeing the title embossed in gold on the leather cover, completely lost his mind. That, in combination with the sheer quantities of sugar he had eaten- a birthday treat that seemed like a good idea at the time- meant that even though the sun was long down, Scorpius looked as far from sleep as it was possible to be.  
“Let me try.” Astoria moved from her chair down to the floor, kneeling at her son’s height as he stopped careening off furniture for a moment to face her. “Time for bed, Scorpius.”  
“No!”  
“Yes.”  
“No!”  
“Yes.”  
“We could read to you?” Draco interrupted before this could carry on all night. Scorpius considered this offer carefully. But Astoria had an inkling that reading would only make Scorpius more excited.  
“Or I could sing to you.” Astoria suggested, and Scorpius nodded enthusiastically.  
“Okay, get into bed now and I’ll come upstairs in a moment.”  
As the patter of Scorpius’s footsteps on the staircase faded, Astoria watched him disappear with a soft smile. Draco pulled her in close to him and wrapped his arms around her, and she settled against him automatically.  
They didn’t say anything, just stood together peacefully for a moment, enjoying the silence. Draco felt like the rest of the world beyond their house had just fallen away.  
“I’ll head up and try and get Scorpius to settle.” Astoria moved her head back from where it had been resting on her husband’s shoulder.  
“Rather you than me.” Draco replied in a low voice, near a whisper.  
Astoria smiled, and kissed him, wrapping her hand in his.  
“I love you.”  
“I love you too.”

Scorpius had managed to change into his pyjamas, but not much more than that. He beamed up at his mother as she entered, still bursting with energy.  
“Okay, Scorpius, time for sleep.” Scorpius seemed a little disgruntled by the suggestion. Astoria had to resist laughing at his little pout. She sat down next to him on the bed and pulled him close to her instead. “Do you still want me to sing to you?”  
He nestled into her shoulder and mumbled in the affirmative. She ran her hand through his mop of white blonde hair, and he collapsed into her lap, all his energy suddenly disappeared.  
Pulling him as close to her as possible, Astoria started to sing.

“Where the north wind meets the sea,  
There's a river full of memory.  
Sleep, my darling, safe and sound,  
For in this river all is found.

In her waters, deep and true,  
Lie the answers, and a path for you.  
Dive down deep into her sound,  
But not too far or you'll be drowned.

Yes, she will sing to those who'll hear,  
And in her song, all magic flows  
But can you brave what you most fear?  
Can you face what the river knows?

Where the north wind meets the sea,  
There's a mother full of memory.  
Come, my darling, homeward bound,  
When all is lost, then all is found.”


	2. The Voice From The North

That voice again.  
It was only an hour or so before he was usually awake, but it had been an uneasy night. That same sound, or voice, like wind blowing through a house, only more melodic. It felt like it was calling out to him, waiting for him, trying to tell him something, something he couldn’t place.  
Giving up on all hope of sleep, Scorpius stood up and started dressing automatically. But even as he put on his dark, heavy coat and buttoned each miniscule clasp, his mind was somewhere else entirely.  
The huge window in his bedroom, immense and lead framed, glared down at the courtyard in the harsh light of the morning sun. Servants in grey were moving about between the stone benches that covered the courtyard in rigid rows. These were not a permanent feature, but foretold the crowds gathering that evening to witness the celebration.  
In order to maintain loyalty, the Augurey held a number of special celebrations throughout the year to honour those of her court who had done anything to particularly please or impress her. Indeed, whole families would be honoured for the success of their parents, to teach children of the rewards that loyalty to the Augurey could bring.  
Scorpius gazed into the mirror before him, gilded, ornate and ancient, covered in flecks where the silver paint had peeled from use. A family heirloom, just like the reflection it bore. He adjusted his collar slightly, then pushed a stray strand of hair back off his face. His hair reached to his shoulders, like his father and his father before him, proof that he was doing all he could to live up to the Malfoy family name.  
He had been chosen specifically by the Augurey as the son of one of her most trusted ministers, at the age of eleven. Every parent in the Augurey’s favour had offered up their children to her service, but she had chosen Scorpius Malfoy as her heir apparent to the throne of Caligina and elevated his family name to among the highest in the land. Despite her fickle temperament and threats to the contrary, Scorpius had remained heir apparent for three and a half years, and had earned the title, or rather nickname, of the Scorpion King.  
And there was no reason he shouldn’t take his throne, no reason he shouldn’t succeed, as long as he kept hidden what he could do.  
Scorpius thought of his dream the previous night- one of a series that had been going on for weeks. Dreams of the forests that lay to the North, and the mysteries they contained. Dreams where he learned great truths that he couldn’t remember the next morning. Dreams of magic.  
Except nobody ever went near the forests from Caligina, on the Augurey’s strict orders. And nobody used magic. Not unless they wanted to be killed.  
And it wasn’t just the dreams, either. Everything he had tried to suppress for years seemed to be fighting to get out, like something trying to break through the surface of a river that had frozen over. An ironic image, he thought.  
He had to keep control of it. He couldn’t afford to be led astray by strange voices or fancies. He had to focus.

***

““Those being honoured have gathered in the courtyard, Your Highness.”  
“Don’t interrupt my meetings to tell me things I already know. Get out.” Delphi’s voice was unbearably bored. The servant nodded and scampered from the room as fast as he could without turning his back on her. One of the other servants stood at the fringes of the room closed the door behind him.  
Draco watched her turn away from the window, where she had in fact been looking down at the gathering families from her vantage point on the second floor. The windows in her quarters spanned the entire West side of the castle, and her formidable silhouette behind the glass was said to be the shadow that watched over misbehaving children in the kingdom below, and flew down to snatch their souls from them in the night if they disrespected their parents.  
But by the afternoon sun, Draco could see her for what she was; a very young woman, dizzy with power and obsessed with the sense of control it gave her.  
The great mythos around her was smoke and mirrors, but the brutality was real.  
Her hair was tied off her face, long and blonde, and contrasting with her elaborate dark clothes. Her armour was adorned with a cloak of grey feathers. She put more effort into her outward presentation and dress than she ever did into caring for the citizens of her kingdom. He might have laughed at it if the power she wielded wasn’t quite so terrifying.  
The gleam of a tyrant was in her eyes, and she looked at the map on the table between them like the tiny figurines spread across it were her own playthings.  
“Our forces are more than adequate, Delphi.” Draco spoke carefully, but firmly.  
“Not for the East Harbour.  
“East Harbour? But that’s a tiny trading port. It has no central government. It isn’t our jurisdiction, we don’t need any forces there.”  
“But I want them. We’ll do it so gradually that nobody notices. Expand our sphere of influence. You’re always so cautious.”  
“If not wasting resources on needless expansion is cautious, then that’s exactly what I am.”  
“Don’t test me Draco. It’s tiresome. I want sixty soldiers to the East Harbour by the end of the week.”  
“Yes, your highness.” Draco’s tone was eternally acerbic, concealing everything he actually longed to say. Delphi studied him carefully. She frowned as she did so and her guard seemed to slip. She looked like a child trying to solve a riddle more than a grown woman trying to understand the character of the man in front of her.  
Without another word to Draco, she left the room. An inch or so of her cloak dragged behind her on the floor.  
Draco turned to one of the men at the edge of the room, his second in command chosen by Delphi, a weedy and irritating young devotee of hers.  
“Thirty soldiers to the East Harbour. Choose them yourself, I’ll brief them tomorrow.”  
“But sir, the Augurey said sixty-”  
“And I’m saying thirty. She won’t check.” Draco left the room without another word or glance, letting the door swing to behind him. The tense silence that followed, as the rudderless servants stared blankly at the vacant doorframe, was broken up only by the noise rising up from the courtyard. With an indignant ‘hmmph’, the weedy man stalked out of a different door down in the direction of the soldiers’ quarters.

***

Scorpius caught a glance of his father sweeping past, out of the one of the Augurey’s meeting rooms, and moved just out of view behind a wall that jutted out.  
“Scorpius?” Too late. He hardly blended in with the stone walls- his hair stood out so much he might as well wave a flag announcing his presence everywhere he went.  
“Father.” Scorpius was a little hesitant. He wasn’t supposed to speak to his father. Delphi had warned him not to disturb ‘a man who bears the burden of this kingdom. He doesn’t need you pestering him, distracting him from what matters’. But he had addressed him first.  
Draco examined his son, expressionless eyes fixed on him. Scorpius had started when he spoke, but now he mirrored Draco, standing tall with a neutral expression. Draco searched desperately for something to say.  
“Where are you going?”  
“To the kitchens.”  
“You aren’t supposed to go down there yourself.”  
“I felt like walking.”  
A silence followed. They both looked at each other, equally guarded and uncertain.  
“Don’t let anyone else see you.” Draco turned sharply and walked away.  
Scorpius hovered in the hallway a few moments more, before turning the opposite direction down a side staircase.

“Oh! Good morning, Scorpion King.” A tall boy with sandy hair and an energetic disposition was in his usual place in the kitchens, rolling a huge sheet of pastry out onto an immense wooden table.  
“Morning, Yann.” Yann wiped his hands on his apron rapidly and bowed enthusiastically in response. Scorpius walked closer to the table, still keeping his hands clasped behind his back.  
“How are you, sir?” Yann returned to rolling the pastry with vigour.  
“Well, thank you. Yourself?”  
“The same. My father seems to be coming round to the idea of my apprenticeship here, we spoke at length last night.”  
Scorpius smiled. Yann’s father was desperate for him to become a soldier under the Augurey, thinking it was the more fitting office for his youngest son, when formal apprenticeship started next year for sixteen-year-olds. But Yann had undertaken work in the castle kitchens under the mentorship of the castle cook, who had been hugely impressed by his abilities, and now he was desperate to continue officially rather than joining the Augurey’s forces. Scorpius often came down to the kitchens to take an illicit pastry, and enjoyed Yann’s company as he talked with vigour for hours on end.  
Yann had briefly been tempted to join the army by the presence of a certain girl at training sessions, but after Polly Chapman complimented his baking he was once again determined to dedicate his life to the kitchen craft. He also regularly slipped her fruit tarts whenever she stopped by the kitchens, which she ate despite her complaints that she had to stay in proper shape for training. She, like Yann, had started early, knowing what she wanted to do before the official apprenticeship began to the Augurey and she was committed to a guild.  
“That’s brilliant, Yann.” Scorpius replied. Yann beamed down at his rolling pin as he pushed it to the very edges of the pastry, before taking a knife from the counter and beginning to cut complicated shapes in the dough. He halted himself suddenly.  
“Oh, before I forget. There’s only a few left over…” From under a tablecloth on a low shelf, Yann pulled a tray of various baked goods. “Help yourself.” Scorpius smiled and selected a jam filled pastry. He couldn’t resist anything sugary, try as he might, which was how he came to visit the kitchens so regularly in search of anything baked. “I’ve got an awful lot to do for tonight, I’ve already been up since dawn.” Yann continued.  
“I’ll leave you in peace then. I have to get back anyway, there are too many people about for me to be where I’m not supposed to be.”  
Yann nodded his understanding. Scorpius regretted that he couldn’t stay longer, but he’d have to find another day.  
“Good day, sir.”

As Scorpius walked through a side entrance and out to the South side of the castle, he heard the mysterious voice cry out to him again. It sounded like it was being carried on the wind, but it was a still day.  
Why was he hearing this?  
It might be something to do with magic. The thought made his chest tighten, like his heart had flinched in on itself.  
Standing close to the wall, he could look up to see the immense stone towers above him. Straining his eyes against the near-midday sun, he could see the hard black spears moving across the sky above the castle, disembodied weapons marching across the ramparts. He tuned in as well to the noise of the yard below, where trainee soldiers were drilling to the monotone shouts of an instructor. He was due to train next year, as a swordsman rather than a spear-carrier, when he turned sixteen. He would have personal tutelage from one of the master swordsmen of the kingdom, fitting to his own office.  
Beyond the yard and the official perimeters of the castle lay the rest of the kingdom. From a distance it looked peaceful, but Scorpius knew that soldiers were lurking on every street. They terrorised people for fun, he’d seen them doing it, on the rare occasion he left the castle grounds. Thrust the sharp edges of their spears in the faces of anyone who questioned them. If children were too loud playing in the streets they could be dragged home with a spear against their throat to their parents. Glorified thugs, disciplined bandits.  
But inside the castle lay the nucleus of cruelty. It didn’t bear thinking about, and you didn’t if you could help it. The screaming wasn’t worth a second consideration.  
There was no point in longing for the return of the past, Delphi said.  
“If you get caught up in the past you forget to shape your own future, and you become worthless”.  
Or Umbridge’s personal favourite, that longing for the past was longing for the return of filth and degeneracy.  
“We are at least some way elevated above the animals, Scorpius! We must take pride in what little progress we have made beyond our more…” She had reached a bony hand out to her teacup as she spoke, “simple instincts.”

And then his father.  
“Don’t ask questions. Don’t talk back. Don’t put yourself at risk for any reason. It’s a better life than it might have been for you.”  
Scorpius hadn’t asked what he meant by that, but he mostly knew. His father was a follower of Delphi’s, had been since his mother died. Her illness had been sudden and deadly, and Draco’s conversion even more so.  
“The past is gone, Scorpius. Please don’t ask for it to return.”

***

The ceremony passed in a whirlwind. Scorpius was between his father and Delphi, who was even more gaudily turned out than usual on her grand throne. Scorpius was slightly behind her on her right side, as her heir, with his father beside him. Umbridge sat primly on the other side.  
Each of those being honoured made their way to the front, knelt before the Augurey, and were presented with medallions for their service inscribed with their names. They were cheap metal, Scorpius knew, metal that melted easily so that any traitors’ medallions could be held over the fire before their executions. As part of the show.  
It went on for half an hour, in front of all the Augurey’s ministers, soldiers and visitors from the rest of the kingdom who aspired to the Augurey’s court from their own lowly lives. Scorpius felt eyes scanning him, caught people staring from the crowd, but he didn’t move anything except his eyes. His spine felt like it was made of rock, holding him still, trapped by its weight holding him on the chair.  
Delphi stood and began making her customary speech. Scorpius absorbed none of it, however, because almost as soon as she started speaking the voice cried out again.  
That’s what it sounded like, a cry. Or a call. A summons, without words but which seemed to pull at him, like a child tugging his sleeve. Nobody reacted. Nobody else had heard. Scorpius turned his head slowly, almost impercetably, to the North, the direction in which the voice seemed to be running, still calling him, invisible and disembodied.  
Over the brow of the hill was the forest. The castle, being the Northernmost part of the kingdom, also served as a barrier beyond which nobody went. The forests to the North were dangerous, it was said, and to protect the citizens, anyone who trespassed there was executed. It was not safe, Delphi said, and an example must be set to keep everyone safe.  
That was the direction the voice was coming from.  
With a start, Scorpius realised his hands had gone cold. He clenched them into fists, but the more fearful he became, the more it grew out of control, and he could feel the icy sensation spread through his hands. He tried to trap it there, but it only grew colder and more forceful, trying to make its way through his veins.  
This couldn’t happen now. Not in front of all these people. And Delphi wouldn’t stop talking. He clenched his hands tighter still, and in the outer reaches of his peripheral vision he saw his father turn his head ever so slightly to look at Scorpius.  
He breathed, slowly and steadily, forcing himself not to lose control. But every so often a shudder ran through him.  
He couldn’t tell how much was perceptible by the crowd. Delphi seemed to be holding them rapt for now, but if he moved again…  
Mercifully, Delphi finished speaking and the crowd stood and cheered. Nobody seemed to have noticed.  
The icy sensation was spreading now, up to his shoulders. He stood at the same time as his father and the ministers either side of themselves and Delphi, and bowed to her as she moved past. Then the soldiers moved in between the crowds and the ministers and Scorpius slipped away, unseen by all except his father.

The castle was empty of soldiers, only household servants moving about, lighting fires and preparing in a hubbub of activity for the evening meal. Scorpius moved as quickly as possible back up to his own rooms, and slammed the door behind him.  
Where his hand had pushed it in from the other side, ice had formed and spread across the wood.  
He backed away slowly from the door.  
It had reached his chest now, meaning that his heart was pumping cold through his entire body. It had taken over. His tears were still hot, and they burned against his skin where it had become icy cold.  
Three curt knocks on the door.  
“Sir?” A servant. “Are you well?” Scorpius stood in the middle of the room, trying not to touch anything.  
“I’ve taken ill, suddenly, I, uh- I won’t attend dinner tonight.”  
“Would you like an attendant sir?”  
“No! No. Leave me. It’s just a- uh, a headache.”  
“A headache?”  
“Like a head… a headcold.”  
“Very well, sir.”  
Scorpius was dizzy now. He had lost control of his breathing, and now the servant was gone from the other side of the door he collapsed to the ground.

***

Draco could only extricate himself without suspicion after the first course, citing a need for fresh air. He hovered outside Scorpius’ door, then knocked twice, slow and loud.  
“Who is it?” The voice on the other side was quiet and fearful.  
“Me.” A heavy pause followed from the other side.  
“Come in.”  
Scorpius was still on the floor, too afraid to touch anything. Except that as he hugged his arms against his chest, his hands had laid flat against his clothes, one hand on his ribs and the other on his arm. The heavy black fabric had become light blue beneath his palms, and instead of the thick weave of the rest of his clothes it looked like a stained glass window spun into fabric, a pattern of ice. Scorpius’ voice shook as he spoke, and he stared at the skirting boards rather than make eye contact.  
“I’m sorry.”  
Draco watched him carefully. This was temporary. It had happened before, and he had never been exposed, never gotten into danger, not yet. It would be over soon.  
He wanted to reach out and help Scorpius. To do something, to mimic what Astoria always did when he was young and he tripped over, holding him in her arms until he stopped crying. But he couldn’t. He willed himself to do something, anything, the right thing, but he could only stand and watch his son in pain.  
“Stay here for the rest of the night. Don’t leave this room, and don’t let anybody else in.” Draco left without another word. On the other side of the door, closing it with a soft click, he turned. For the briefest moment, he let his forehead rest against the wood, inhaling slowly.  
He collected himself and returned downstairs.

***

It was midnight before he moved again. Scorpius felt stiff before long, and his tears had stopped flowing, but not before becoming icy cold themselves.  
He stood, slowly, resolutely, as the voice called out again. Looking once more in the gilded mirror, he saw with shock that his clothes were completely ice blue.  
This is what magic does, he thought to himself. It taints things. I have to leave.  
From his wardrobe he pulled an immense black cloak. He had nothing to lose.  
I can’t keep doing this, I can’t put people at risk, and I can’t stay here. I can’t do this. I have to leave.  
The sky was inky black and dull, and wrapped completely in his cloak the only conspicious part of Scorpius was his hair. But it afforded him courtesy, at least, as people stepped aside to see him coming and nobody within the castle asked him any questions.

Beyond the castle was the difficult part. It was in the courtyard that he was ambushed by Polly Chapman, who judging by her armour was shadowing a night guard. She was carrying a sword, the sign of a very promising trainee, despite not even being fifteen yet. Her dedication to the Augurey and her natural military prowess meant senior soldiers were competing to take her under their wing, and it had definitely gone to her head. Leaning her entire body backwards against a pillar and making intense, unwavering eye contact, she stopped Scorpius dead in his tracks.  
“Scorpion King! It’s an honour.” She swung herself upright and moved closer to him. “Such a shame you weren’t at dinner, I wanted to talk to you. See, I’ve been in conversation with my mentors about my future, you know, training and all. I’m supposed to start my full time apprenticeship, but they want me to be sure I have good prospects, you know…” Scorpius took a small shuffle back, but Polly wasn’t deterred. “They want me to be engaged before I start training, and of course I couldn’t get married or settle down until I'm a full guild member, you know, but if there was an eligible partner for me, someone who understood what I want… power, and strength… and of course there’s no harm in marrying up, especially not since my family were so highly honoured last year by the Augurey, and I’m going to be a master swordsman-”  
“Polly, I’m flattered. Really. But I can’t-”  
“What?”  
“I just…” Scorpius searched desperately for the right thing to say to shake Polly off.  
“Is there someone else?” She looked at him in horror.  
“No. I mean, there is. Not for me. For you.”  
“What?”  
“I…” He sighed in frustration. “Polly, I don’t want to marry you. But Yann-”  
“Yann?”  
“Yes, Yann! He fancies you, alright, you said you liked his baking once and now it’s all he wants to do. He talks about you all the time.”  
Polly looked taken aback.  
“Well, that’s a strange way to be rejected.” She looked equal parts offended and confused at his sudden response. She went to speak again, but Scorpius could feel the urgency of every second he stood there.  
“I have to leave, Polly. Goodbye.”  
Before she could respond, Scorpius turned away and headed beyond the confines of the courtyard.

He knew that soldiers watched the bridge by the main entrance to the castle, and that they would insist he went with an armed guard if he left the castle grounds. But if he could sneak away to the North, head for the forest and follow the voice, then nobody would see him. It was the least guarded side of the castle, and in the darkness he could slip away.  
Once he was out of sight of the bridge, the problem of crossing the river emerged. Even in the darkness Scorpius could see the river which formed the kingdom’s barrier to the North.  
He knelt down at the edge of the water and brushed the surface with his fingertips- immediately ice began to cover the surface. Straightening back up, he tried to step onto the surface of the water, and the ice hardened underneath him. He took another step, now with no foothold left on the safe ground of the riverbank, and began to walk across. The river was wide and deep, but as he became certain that the river was solid beneath him he gathered speed, putting as much distance between himself and the castle as possible.  
If he could gain ground now, before anyone noticed he was missing, then they couldn’t catch up if they came after him. That conclusion spurred him on, and he was sprinting before he reached the other side of the river.  
He didn’t look back, meaning he didn’t see that from every footstep he had taken across the water, ice was spreading slowly across its surface, expanding down the entire river.

***

“Where is he, Draco?” Dinner had finished not long ago, and Draco had been attending to business before returning to his own rooms not five minutes before.  
“Delphi. What a pleasant surprise.” The sarcasm was not lost on Delphi, whose barely concealed rage clouded her face. Behind her were her personal guards.  
“Where is he.” As he processed the question the second time, Draco’s shoulders stiffened. It was almost imperceptible, but Delphi’s hawklike vision noticed it and she pushed past him, walking into the centre of the room.  
“Who?”  
“Don’t play dumb.”  
“Tell me what you mean, then.”  
“Scorpius. Disappeared. And the river has frozen completely, down to the depths.” Her voice was full of accusation and bitterness, and a kind of strange, victorious anger. Draco felt his entire body shift from the inside, as shock ran through him. Catching himself, he tried not to let his expressionless mask shift, but it was pointless.  
Draco thought phenomenally little of her, but he knew of Delphi’s capacity for showmanship. She could take petty thievery or a misconstrued meaning and twist from it the grounds for execution if the desire came over her. And she had chosen the narrative, told the story to herself that she would force to be true if it killed her. She hardly needed to say the words.  
“Seize him!”

***

Polly was walking the perimeter of the castle when she heard the clamour approaching from the courtyard. Following the commands of the soldiers she was walking with, she ran with them to the source of the noise.  
“What’s happened?” She asked one of the trainees, who was watching a General shout orders.  
“Scorpion King’s missing. And the river’s frozen, looks like magic.”  
“Magic?” Polly resisted the urge to gasp. Even saying the word felt like she had broken some great taboo.  
“Well I don’t know what else it could be. If there’s a resurgence of some dark force, and if it has anything to do with the heir, then we’ll all be called upon to fight. People suspect kidnap, but he hasn’t been seen since the ceremony.”  
That wasn’t strictly true, Polly thought. If nobody else had seen him… she had to say something, surely? She hadn’t really thought about why he was around, just seen him coming and resolved to talk to him. But he had a travelling cloak on, and no guards with him… was he running away?  
He hadn’t been kidnapped. Unless his rejecting Polly was supposed to be out of character enough to make her suspicious? No, he had been running away.  
And if she told someone, he’d be caught. Polly knew first hand exactly what kind of punishments runaways got. A few years ago she had tried to run away from a teacher that threatened to beat her for talking back. She hadn’t seen her family for four days.  
And it could only be worse for the heir of the kingdom.  
Nobody else had been around. Nobody else had seen him. She resolved to keep her mouth shut.

***

Scorpius had made swift progress towards the forest, and as the castle faded behind him the forest lay on the horizon. The sun was just rising now, and dyeing the scene a hazy pink.  
The distant forest was a shade of lush green, but a opaque white fog hovered low among the trees. He didn’t know how long it would take to reach, but he had gone far enough now to stop at the side of a small brook that ran down from the hill on which the forest grew.  
Scorpius could see his reflection, warped in the slowly flowing water.  
As he looked down into the water, his hair fell into his eyes. Almost meditatively, Scorpius doused his hair with water, then reached into the brook and pulled out a small blade of clear blue ice, razor sharp on either side and hard as steel. Taking a fistful of long blonde hair, he held it taut and tore through it with the sharp edge in one motion. He felt the tension release against his head and looked down to see the lifeless hair sitting in his palm.  
After a few more clean slices, he was satisfied. He rubbed his hair dry with his cloak, abandoning it by the stream in long grass so it wouldn’t be found. His hair was shaggy and unruly, but it felt cathartic somehow. He had taken back some form of control, and even if they killed him he was comforted by the fact that he wouldn’t look like quite the same person. His hair fell in his eyes and he felt it, strange, like a weight lifted from his scalp. It was soft to touch and springer than when it was long, but also messier.  
His reflection stared back at him curiously, trying to puzzle out the stranger it met eyes with.

***

“I knew nothing, Delphi. I don’t know where he is.”  
“Don’t lie to me, Draco. What do you have to lose? Scorpius was hanging onto life in my kingdom by a thread. And that thread has snapped. I will find another heir, another servant, as I always knew I would. I suspected you would betray me.” She leaned forward ever so slightly, staring him straight in the eyes. “I just hoped for something a little cleverer from you.”  
Delphi’s voice echoed off the stone walls of the tower, even as she spoke slowly and quietly. Even now, tied to a chair in the highest tower of the castle, surrounded by guards and completely at Delphi’s mercy- not that there was much of that- he found himself rolling his eyes at her propensity for theatrics.  
“I don’t know where he is.”  
“LIAR!” Her scream made even the guards start, and grip their spears tighter. Draco clenched his jaw.  
“Don’t you think,” He said through gritted teeth, “that if I knew where my son was I would have gone after him?” Delphi smiled at him, with a sort of twisted arrogance.  
“Don’t you worry, Draco. You won’t have to mourn your son long. I’ll kill him in front of you, of course, as soon as I find him, but then I’ll kill you too.”  
Draco dropped his gaze at last. His knuckles had gone white against the rope that bound them to the chair as he clenched his hands in a fruitless rage.  
The guards at the door had turned on him just as quickly as the entire kingdom had turned on Scorpius after Delphi had denounced him as a traitor. They watched him carefully now, enjoying the fall of the mighty unfolding before them. Delphi circled him like a vulture, looking like she was lost in thought when Draco knew she was gloating, victorious and elated.  
“What a pity. I really thought he had a chance, you know. You did all you could, I suppose, but now you’ll watch him meet the same fate as his mother.” She watched Draco’s shoulders tense with satisfaction. “What a shame he wasn’t more like you.” She smiled again as Draco flinched. She had struck a nerve.  
“I need to send out troops to retrieve him. But in the meantime…” She looked over at the guards at the door. They understood the meaning in her expression immediately, and shifted as she walked towards the door, setting their eyes on Draco once more.  
Draco tried to meet their gaze with some measure of strength or defiance, but he knew he failed. Moments after the lock clicked shut from the other side, the flat edge of a spearhead blew hard across his face.


	3. The Archway In The Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The forest hides the long-lost history of magic, but Scorpius is not wholly welcome beyond the barrier.

Scorpius could feel the air grow thicker as he reached the forest. The mist made it hard to breathe, and as he got closer to the forest it became too thick to see through until at last it was completely solid and impassable.  
Feeling along the barrier, Scorpius noticed a light emanating from the ground. It extended the whole way along the most solid part of the barrier of mist. Crouching down, he could see a deep red flame. The grass around it wasn’t burning, nor was there a visible source. A magical fire, laid down around the edges of the forest, from which smoke emanated.  
And from that fire came all this white mist, which he now realised wasn’t mist at all. It was smoke, but pure and white and alive. This was magic, and he felt something in his chest constrict with joy.  
He leant down and placed a hand against the fire, covering the ground in ice. The flames extinguished and a gap opened in the barrier of smoke. He moved his hand across the ground until the gap was wide enough for him to slip through, like an archway in the smoke. He stepped through, and the smoke closed up again behind him.  
Trapped now on the other side of the barrier, he looked around and saw the lush green of the forest around him. Where it had been overwhelmingly quiet and lonely on the journey from the castle, now the birds were singing in the early evening and he could hear the leaves of the forest floor crunch under his feet, and the wind rustle gently through the trees.  
He had been walking for a few minutes, skirting the edges of the forest, when a sudden blow to the chest pinned him against the nearest spruce tree.  
He looked up to see a ferocious woman, not actually taller than him but towering over him, radiating an awe inspiring strength. Scorpius felt himself shrink under her intense gaze. He had cried out in shock when she attacked him, but now he fell deadly silent.  
“Who are you?” She spoke slowly and clearly, looking him dead in the eye. He felt the bark of the tree digging into his back as her right forearm pressed into his chest. Clearly he hadn’t answered quickly enough for her liking, and in his peripheral vision he saw her raise a handful of the same red flame that had been at the barrier close to his face. “Tell me now, or I’ll kill you.”  
“Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy.”  
A complete change came over the woman’s countenance, and she leaned back slightly, easing the pressure on Scorpius’s chest. She stepped back completely, taking a proper look at him for the first time.  
“Where did you come from?” Her voice was slightly softer now, curious, but her expression was still scrutinising. She seemed shocked.  
“Caligina. I- I ran away.”  
“How did you get here?”  
“I came through the mist-”  
“Through the barrier? How? That’s impossible.”  
“I don’t know how, I just-”  
“But you can’t be magical if you come from Caligina. How are you…” She trailed off. She looked him up and down, and saw the shade of his clothes and the intricate fractal patterns running across his shoulders.  
He looked distinctly un-Caliginan. Not that she’d been there recently enough to say, but she didn’t imagine icy blue being worn by any of the nobility. In fact, the cut of his clothes was just like the old Caliginan noble style, but it was as if the fabric had been taken over by magic. She’d seen this on one or two occasions- there was an old story about an ice goddess whose clothes had turned blue from her magic. Like all old fairytales, it didn’t have a very happy ending. She frowned; at close quarters, he looked much younger than she thought.  
“I am. Magic. That’s why I ran away.” He replied finally, finding his voice in the silence. She looked at him for a few seconds more, then she seemed to make up her mind.  
“My name’s Hermione. Come with me.”

***

“Harry?” He was pulled from his reverie by a voice behind him. He turned to see his wife, her arms folded, concern written on her face.  
“Ginny. Sorry, I just-”  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing.” He didn’t know why he bothered. The moment he said it her eyebrows raised and she shifted slightly, looking at him with an intensity that said she knew he was lying to her, and she recommended he didn’t. “Something’s wrong with the barrier.”  
“What?”  
“I don’t know, I can feel it.”  
“It could be nothing.”  
“It doesn’t feel like nothing.”  
“Hermione’s patrolling, so if anything is wrong she’ll find it.” Ginny frowned. “It’s alright, Harry. Come back inside. Otherwise I’ll have to finish cooking dinner myself, and nobody wants my burnt food.”  
He laughed half-heartedly.  
“Alright.”

***

“Hermione? What’s going on?” Over Hermione’s shoulder Scorpius could see a grey haired, dignified woman in a green woollen shawl in the entryway of the stone cottage they had now reached. Despite the obvious surprise in her eyes, she met his gaze with an unflinching ferocity as he came closer.  
“I found something.” Hermione replied.  
“Well. You’d better come in.”

A few moments later, Scorpius was sat on a makeshift wooden chair next to the unlit fireplace, shrinking in on himself.  
“We need the others.” He heard Hermione say, muttering in low tones at the doorway.  
“I’ll go and fetch them. Stay with him for now.”  
Hermione came closer to him, still studying his face.  
“Are you alright?” She asked.  
“Yes.” He answered simply, not quite meeting her eye. Summoning his courage, he continued. “What’s happening?”  
“That was Minerva McGonagall. She’s sort of our unofficial…” She tried to think of the right word. “Chief? Leader?” She shook her head and took a seat across from Scorpius. “I imagine you have some questions. How much do you know about us?”  
“Nothing. We aren’t supposed to go near this forest.” He replied. She chuckled, nodding.  
“That makes sense. It might raise some questions. And you must have come quite some way to get here.” He nodded. She stood up again and pulled a glass down from the cupboard in the corner, which appeared to already be full of water. She placed it in front of him. “Here. Take a rest while the others arrive. You’re going to be okay.” She sat down across from him. “Unless you’re a spy or some kind of threat. Then we’ll kill you, obviously. But I doubt it.”  
He smiled back at her and took a sip.  
After a few moments, while he could still feel her curious gaze on him, he spoke.  
“What is this place?”  
She laughed.  
“A good question. Well, if you’re from Caligina, it’s a good thing you don’t know.” She frowned, thinking of how to word her answer. “You know about the war?”  
“A little. I read a lot of old history books, and some of them have allusions to the war. They talk about the dangers of magic, mostly, and how all those that practiced it were killed.”  
Hermione smiled at this.  
“Well, that isn’t quite true, as you might have gathered. Many of us were killed, but those of us that remain live here, under the protection of the spirits.”  
“Spirits?”  
“Yes. There are four- fire, water, air and earth. They’re the source of all magic. It’s almost always inherited from parents, and it used to be that one magical parent and one non-magical had an even chance of having a baby who could use magic or couldn’t. Now, of course, we don’t have the option of marrying non-magical people. Most of our children were born and raised in this forest, and they’ve never left. No-one’s left for twenty-two years.”  
“Because of the barrier?”  
“Yes. That reminds me. How did you get through? What kind of magic did you use?”  
“Ice. I can- I can make ice. I’m not really sure.”  
“Ice? I’ve never heard of that.”  
“I used it to put out the fires, the ones making the mist. Well, the smoke.”  
“Well observed.” She smiled at him.  
“What is it? The fire, where does it come from?”  
“Now, that is a question. With a long and complex answer.” Seeing his interested expression, she resettled herself in her seat and began. “A long time ago, a boy was raised without any knowledge of his abilities, by non-magical relatives. His parents had been some of the first victims of anti-magical killings in many centuries, and he was kept away from danger as a new world order rose. It was prophesied that he would protect us from those who feared us, who wanted to harm us and take our power away. And eventually the time came. The sporadic killings became an organised coup, which overthrew the kingdom which is now Caligina. Magic folk were hunted, and many killed, especially those who fought. And then this boy, he learned of his powers. And, long story short, the fire spirit had chosen him to protect us all. It allowed us all to escape to the forest, where the barrier protected us from further harm.”  
“So that barrier, that smoke, it’s the fire spirit?”  
“The fire spirit in combination with his soul. Harry’s.”  
“Harry?”  
“The boy from the prophecy. Harry Potter. He protected what was left of us, and part of his soul is in that barrier. That’s what the fire spirit chose him for.” She smiled. “He’s actually a friend of mine.”  
Scorpius digested this information for a moment. A whole world had existed beyond Delphi’s reach, something he’d never imagined. He always knew the forest had secrets, but this was something else entirely. This was wonderful.  
The door latch clacked in the hallway and a commotion arose. The woman in the green shawl, McGonagall, swept into the room, and behind her came several others: two similar looking women of different ages, both with red hair, and another similarly redheaded old man. The older woman was wrapped in shawls of increasingly elaborate crochet patterns, and behind her the younger woman, presumably her daughter, stood with a hand on her own waist, her jaw set in focus as she caught sight of Scorpius. The man behind her removed his jacket, then straightened himself and looked over to the fireplace where he was sat.  
“Scorpius, this is Molly, her husband Arthur, and their daughter Ginny.” Hermione stood and gestured to each of them in turn. “And that’s Harry.”  
The final person to appear in the doorway after everyone else had entered the room was a man with dark hair and thin round glasses, which looked very old indeed. Scorpius could make out a dark red cut across his forehead, just underneath his hair. When Scorpius met his eye, he saw an unreadable emotion there.

***

“Malfoy?”  
“But doesn’t that make even more sense? If he ran away from him-”  
“We know next to nothing about him. He’s dangerous, we can’t-”  
“Harry, we are all just as keenly aware of the risks as you are.”  
“It’s my responsibility, Hermione.”  
“But it isn’t your decision.”  
The room fell silent once more. Scorpius was alone in the next room, and they had gathered in the kitchen to discuss what to do.  
“She’s right. We all have to decide.” Ginny said softly.  
“Am I the only one who sees how dangerous this is? He’s an outsider, we haven’t had anything like this happen in twenty years.”  
“Harry.” Hermione’s tone was stern. He looked at her with a flash of anger, and she sighed. “I know exactly what you mean. Nobody’s denying this is scary, but we have to keep our heads on straight. We were never destined to stay here forever.”  
Harry backed down, but he was no less angry.

***

The silvery glow was as vivid in Harry’s memory as it had always been. His seventeen year old face stared back at him in the clear ice, and the light shone from it as words carved themselves along the surface of the basin.  
‘Fire will fight and seek to protect,  
But soon what is broken no longer connects’  
Cryptic. Obviously. Dumbledore had never been one for straightforward answers, and that only became more frustrating since he had died. There were no questions he could ask, no conversations to be had, no more clues than the cryptic and isolated. The mystery of it was exhausting.  
The penseive’s light faded, until the words were carved as if in translucent stone.

***

“Harry, we both know that the prophecy wasn’t forever. The spirit’s protection is a temporary measure. We can’t live here forever, and if Scorpius is somehow a way out-”  
“Nobody else is dying. If that means we have to stay here then that’s what it means. No-one’s sacrifice will be in vain if I can help it. And what makes you imagine Scorpius has anything to do with freeing the forest? He’s the son of-”  
“I know exactly who he’s the son of, Harry. And that isn’t what we’re saying. You’re scared, we understand, but-”  
“I’m not scared, Hermione, I’m responsible! You can make whatever decision you like but it’s me who’s supposed to keep the barrier safe, who’s supposed to stay here and keep us alive. I’m going to do whatever that takes.”

***

The walls of the tower were maddening to look at. Draco felt like he couldn’t bear to look at them for another second, but every time he opened his eyes he saw the exact same view. There was nothing for it, no way to resist the flood of thoughts. He’d replayed Delphi’s words a hundred times until they just felt like noise and an indescribable aching pain. He’d have taken any kind of torture over what she had said to him, about Astoria and about his son.  
He’d been left with no choice, he’d said that to himself a thousand times until he’d started to believe it. He’d done all he could just to keep Scorpius safe, he had tried all he could to fly under the radar but Delphi knew what she was doing. He doubted that she ever intended to leave the kingdom to Scorpius. It was a power play. Everything she did was a power play. His position of power in the kingdom itself was just a dirty trick of hers. Well, she had what she’d always wanted now.  
Yet another round of dry, heavy, desperate sobs racked his chest without warning. The guard outside his door turned his head toward the narrow, barred window to see him. Draco’s right cheek had dried blood across it, one eye was bruised and his hair fell across his face, plastered to his forehead with sweat.  
It was strange to the guards, to see one of the most senior men in Caligina in this position. The guard by the door was no older than twenty, and he couldn’t remember a time before this man had stood at every ceremony and commanded the operation of the kingdom’s forces. He’d seen dozens brought through this tower who met the same fate, but none who had fallen quite so far.  
Watching the deadened gaze, he heard a few words escape the prisoner’s lips, a whisper he could only just make out.  
“Astoria, I’m sorry.”


End file.
